Through the Open Door
by glitziana
Summary: What happens after Knockout.  Spoilers for pretty much everything.    I don't own 'em, just borrowed them for a bit.  Enjoy.  And I'd love to hear from you.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

"Kate is dead"

"Kate is dead"

"Kate Beckett is dead"

Castle found that he kept repeating that sad mantra in his head over and over as he walked the midnight streets of Manhattan. With each repetition, his expression became grimmer while tears streaked down his unshaven face. His shoulders slumped, he monotonously placed one foot in front of the other, eating away the hours and the miles. Each day he repeated the pattern. Each night seemed worse than the one before.

Today was Wednesday, three days after Kate's shooting. Today he had attended her funeral. Afterwards, Castle felt used up, washed up. He didn't want to write or talk or even work on the investigation. He was done and looked it.

Returning to the loft, he packed a suitcase, left a note for Martha and Alexis, and swiftly walked to his car. As he spun out of the garage, heading for the Hamptons, cold blue eyes followed his every move through a pair of night vision binoculars. When the car was out of sight, the watcher pulled out his cell phone and hit speed dial.

"As you asked, I've been watching Castle since Monday. There's nothing left. He's done for. He's not a threat. Do you still want me to deal with him?"

The voice on the phone spoke briefly, then the watcher hit end, put the phone away, and headed back to his hotel room. Castle was no longer in play.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

It was almost dawn when Castle pulled into the circular drive that led to the _porte cochere_ of his home in the Hamptons. He had always enjoyed the arrival. The place was an architectural gem of mellow old brick in front, disguising the modern glass construction and spectacular views on the seaward side. This morning he was just grateful to be there.

His face resumed its grim expression as he left the car for the front door. He opened the door and then turned to disable the burglar alarm.

"Freeze!" said a firm voice at his back. "Don't move!"

Hands gave him a quick and thorough pat down and then told him to turn slowly around. A young man in scrubs faced him, holding a Browning 9 mm pointed steadily at his heart. His name tag said only Smith.

"Oh, Mr. Castle," said the young man. "So sorry. We're just not taking any chances."

"I'm fine with that," said Castle, with a wry smile, as he reset the alarm and headed upstairs to his room. He dropped the suitcase off and then hurried down the hall to the double guest suite. Entering the first bedroom, he noticed that the windows had been covered with blackout curtains, held down with tape. He nodded in approval. Passing through the shared bathroom, he took a deep breath and then opened the door to the second bedroom.

And there she was.

The room was bright with light and with the huge smile Kate gave him, sitting up in her hospital bed amid the improvised care unit he'd had installed for her. She was pale, too pale, and looked smaller somehow, with the drips and tubes and whatnot.

He didn't care. Neither did she, as he gave her the most gentle of hugs, burying his face in her hair and calling her name over and over.

"How do you feel? Are Smith and crew taking good care of you?" Turning to the nurse, "Are her vitals OK? How's she doing?"

"I'm fine, Castle," she said as Smith said the same. Both smiled at each other and at Castle. Discretely, Smith left them alone. "But I missed most of the excitement right after the shooting," said Kate. "The crew here has filled me in, but I'd like to hear it from you. What happened?"

"It gives new meaning to the word exciting. A word I'm not sure I ever want to hear again. The ambulance rushed you to the hospital, where they wheeled you through the emergency room and almost immediately into surgery. While we waited, I got a call from Jordan Shaw. Remember her?"

"Yes," said Kate, "Special Agent Jordan Shaw. But what does the FBI have to do with the shooting of a New York City cop?"

"Ah, that's the beauty of it. The shooting took place in a national cemetery. Roy was a veteran, remember? With the funeral there, the jurisdiction for the investigation goes to the cemetery police and the FBI.

"The doctors had already given me an optimistic update. It appeared that the bullet somehow missed everything vital and passed on through and out the back. With that good news, Agent Shaw and I discussed contingency plans and decided that, first, you were going to be OK, and second, that we'd tell most everyone you had died on the table. That gave us time to look for Lockwood and time for you to be safe.

"This was the logical place to set you up to recover, so with the help of the Feds, we moved you here and the rest you know."

"OK, Castle, but I know you. You wear your heart on your sleeve. How did you ever convince people I was truly dead? You're not that good of an actor."

"I'm crushed," he said with a smile. "We had to assume that everyone on your team would be under surveillance. To be convincing, I used a trick I learned in my psychology class in college. By repeating 'Kate is dead' to myself over and over again, I actually felt the grief. There was no acting involved. And would you please not ever do that to me again? It's not a place I want to revisit."

Kate smiled and hugged him again. "I'll do my best."

"Get some rest. Even a Wonder Woman like you will need time to recover. Hurry up, though. We have a case to solve. "

"Wonder Woman? You just want to imagine me in an eagle bustier and starry blue shorts."

Castle waggled his eyebrows and grinned at her. "You better believe it."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Early the next morning, Castle opened Kate's door, bringing in her breakfast and a package of papers.

"If you promise to eat this lovely meal, I'll give you a present for dessert."

"What's the package?"

"Dessert. It was great to see you walk a little yesterday, but Smith tells me physical therapy will start this afternoon."

Kate did the best she could with the soft food, the first solid food she'd eaten since the morning of Montgomery's funeral. When she was finished what she could, Castle pulled out his cell phone, punched in a number, and said, "Bring it on."

The door opened to three technicians carrying a huge array of electronic equipment, including, to Kate's delight, a duplicate of Jordan Shaw's high tech matrix murder boards and the computers to support them.

"Oh, my god!" Kate exclaimed. "How did you do this?"

"With a little help from my friends, " Castle hummed.

"Just put the boards there, where Kate can see it from her bed. If you'll get the stuff plugged in and set up, we'll be ready to rock."

With the boards booted up, Castle couldn't resist playing with some of the images, making them larger or smaller or scooting them around the three boards.

"Earth to Castle," joked Kate. "Now that we've got the bridge of the Enterprise, what's next?"

"We're synced with Jordan's own board and computers. Whatever she puts up, we can see. She can't see our stuff until we're ready, though, because of possible surveillance by the bad guys, even in the very heart of the 12th. If we solve this first, and we will, she's buying us dinner at Le Bernardin."

"And if we lose?"

"We won't because we have dessert."

"I thought all this was dessert," said Kate, gesturing at the array of electronic goodies.

"Nope. It's this," he said, handing her the package of papers.

"What is it?"

"It's a gift, a message from the grave, a package from Roy Montgomery. The day he was shot he sent these to my publisher to hold for me. I guess he didn't want them intercepted. Go ahead and take a look. I'm going to clean up in the kitchen and do some writing on my next Nikki Heat book."

"What's it called?" asked Kate, briefly looking up from the package.

"I'm telling people it's called _Dead Heat_," he said as he walked away.


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks so much for the comments. Much appreciated!**

Chapter Four

Castle didn't return until late afternoon. He had tried to write, but kept getting sidetracked by Kate's case. He wanted to leave her alone to digest the files Roy had sent him, but he wanted her company as well. In fact, as he admitted to himself, he wanted her company forever. He had already told her he loved her. When all this was done, he'd have to tell her again and make sure she listened.

But in the meantime, back to work. He climbed the steps and walked through the open door to her room.

Kate was napping. The afternoon sunshine glanced across her face and the papers spilled across her hospital bed. Castle thought she looked visibly better, better color, and her cheeks filled out from the gauntness he'd seen when he arrived two days before. He smiled and strolled over to the matrix board to see if Kate had entered anything new from the laptop on her bedside table.

"Wake up, Sleeping Beauty," he said, as he dropped a gentle kiss on Kate's forehead. At the same time the door opened to Smith's replacement, another nurse coincidentally named Jones, who took her vital signs, noted the results in the file at the foot of her bed, and left.

They both watched the door swing closed before turning to each other, excitement burning in their eyes.

"Roy kept everything!" said Kate. "Son of a bitch! That son of a bitch." And she smiled, when she said it.

"There should be enough here to solve the case," said Castle. "But I wonder why he just didn't tell us who was behind everything? Why didn't he give us a name?"

"I think he needed us to figure it out, to reason our way through the case on our own. Then we've have the evidence locked into place. Just a name wouldn't convict the bastard, whoever he is."

"So where do we start?"

"Let's see what we know so far," replied Kate. "John Raglan, Gary McCallister, and, at least for a bit, Roy Montgomery, ran a kidnapping ring, snatching up senior members of the New York crime syndicates, beating them up and then holding them for ransom. "

"Right, " said Castle. "And then, somewhere along the line, someone else discovered the ring, someone big and powerful and scary enough to take over and divert all that money to his or her own accounts.

"Now, if I were writing this, Mr. Big would be someone with ties to the criminal underworld in New York, either through law enforcement or through the syndicates themselves or maybe even both."

"Right. And Ragland and McCallister can't go to the cops," Kate took up the thread. "At the very least, they'd be fired. They could go to jail or, even worse, the mob would find out their identities and take them out. Not worth it. So they kept their mouths shut. And then, years later, when everyone thought they were safe, my mom gets a letter from Joe Pulgatti and the whole thing begins to unravel."

"We need a time line!" said Castle, happily, and moved to the electronic murder board to set it up.

"Nineteen years ago the snatch went bad, FBI Agent Bob Armand was killed, and the ring folded." Castle tapped his time line and put in the Armand murder.

"So, sometime before that, maybe a year or two, Mr. Big moves in and takes over"

"And suddenly becomes very wealthy," adds Castle, excitedly, looking at Kate.

"So if we can get a list of potential Mr. Big's, then we can follow the money!" They both shouted out the last part in unison. Then grinned at each other.

Getting serious again, Kate wondered, "But how do we get that list and get financials on all these people? I'm supposed to be dead, and you don't have the contacts."

"Ah! That's where the excellent Jordan Shaw can help us out," replied Castle, reaching for his cell phone. "We'll call her and see what she can dig up."

"That's great," said Kate softly. Then, suddenly overwhelmed with achy fatigue, she closed her eyes. Nothing like doing too much, too soon. As if she'd said it aloud, Mr. Jones appeared with her pain meds.

"Best let her rest for awhile, Mr. Castle," he said. And so he did. Besides, it would take awhile for Shaw to collect the data.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

That evening, Castle studied the glowing images on the electronic board. Looking for the same names on long lists was a thing computers did very well. With the electronic board, you could actually see the process happen, see the name on the lists rushing past each other. As common entries appeared on two or more lists, the names were highlighted and moved to the center of the board. Most of them were then shuffled off again if they didn't meet all the criteria. When the sorting was done, three names were left glowing and pulsing in the middle. Castle touched them one by one. He knew them all.

"Holy crap!" he thought, as he looked at the names. "If any one of these is Mr. Big, it's as explosive as C4 on a short fuse."

One had been a smart young member of the Gitano crime family twenty years ago; now he was a rising don in his own right, locked in a turf battle with the Irish Westies. The second had been a municipal judge, and now, after a distinguished career on the bench, was on a very short list for the U.S. Supreme Court. The last, an ambitious assistant DA, had eventually run for and won a hard-fought election for NYC district attorney, then rose to his current position as the district attorney for New York state. He was rumored to be priming himself for a run at the governor's seat in Albany come next year.

Wake Beckett? He turned and saw her watching him, studying him. She blushed to be caught staring, but Castle grinned and walked over.

"Wanna hear what the Easter Bunny brought us?"

"Whoa," laughed Beckett. "If Jordan Shaw hears you call her the Easter Bunny, she's liable to take you out.'

"It'll be worth it," Castle replied, and told Beckett of the results of the sort. "Let's look at the financials on each and see if we can figure out where the money came from," she said.

"Ah," said Castle. "_Cherchez la moolah!"_


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Each of the three suspects had come into money suddenly, shortly before Armand's shooting. Bank accounts had shown swift increases in deposits or large sums of money had been spent on real estate, equity portfolios, and even a small island.

"Who bought the island?" asked Castle, fascinated with the idea. Ignoring the wheels she could see spinning in his head, Kate pointed to the glowing name of Marco Di'Sabatino, the Mafioso. "I think he's planning on that as a special kind of safe house in case he has to get out of town fast and never come back," she said. "Too bad, but at just about that point in our time line, Di'Sabatino was promoted to a supervisory position over numbers running in lower Manhattan. He would have started collecting a percentage of the millions that flowed through his hands. He'd have enough money to buy five islands, if he wanted. I think we can rule him out."

"And the judge?" asked Castle. Kate sorted through the files until she found the report she was looking for. "He won the lottery."

"No way!" said Castle. "Way!" countered Kate, and pulled up a video file from a news broadcast several decades old. They watched in open mouthed wonder as a reporter interviewed the very same judge and asked him what he planned on doing with his millions."

"I'm going to Disneyland!" laughed the judge. "No, seriously, I'm going to invest the money in rock solid securities and save up for my kids' college educations. You don't get rich being a judge."

"Not what I hear," muttered Castle in frustration, as he flipped the glowing name off the matrix board with a finger. "Who's left?"

"New York Attorney General William Thames," said Kate. "When all this started, he was an ambitious assistant district attorney here in the city with his sights set on being NYC's District Attorney. Soon after, and this is very odd, he began to receive large donations to his DA campaign fund. His opponent claimed he was putting the money into the fund himself, and there was an investigation, but no one could prove anything. He ran a well financed campaign and won. Then, four years ago, he ran for and won the position of New York State Attorney General, the highest ranking law enforcement officer in the State.

"So what's strange about that?" asked Castle.

"There's this odd thing with the deposits."

"What odd thing?"

She looked at the print out of Thames' financial report. "Just before Armand's murder, about four months before, he made a random series of deposits, quite a lot of them, and each for around $9,500 in cash. He claimed they were consultant fees for out of state clients, but there were" – she counted silently – "six of them in this account and another four in this other account. I wonder what that means?" She looked up. "And what are you doing?"

Castle was dancing around the room. He skipped over to her, snatched the sheet of paper from her hand, and swung into a solo rumba. "Oh, you bastard. Oh, you clever, clever bastard. We gotcha now!"

"What?"

Castle pulled a chair up to Kate's bed and sat down. "The big problem with coming into a lot of money suddenly is what to do with it," he explained. "We're talking about lots of money here. Even if most of it was already in numbered Swiss bank accounts, there would still be a large sum of cash left over from the most recent kidnappings. Our Mr. Big has to figure out what to do with it.

"If you suddenly deposit a third of a million dollars into your bank account, the bank has to report it to the IRS, and you have to explain where the money came from. But it looks like Mr. Thames used the traveler's check maneuver."

"How does it work?" asked Kate.

"You buy traveler's checks in large amounts but less than $10,000 at a time. You can buy them in any name for which you have identification, and do this as many times as you want, switching names, switching accounts, and so on. Then you write down the check numbers and burn the checks."

"What?"

"Yeah, burn those babies. Don't leave them lying around for the Feds to find. Then, whenever you need money, you get in touch with the check company, report the serial numbers as lost or stolen, and collect the cash."

"Oh, my god," said Kate. "If he did this a lot of times, we should be able to track down some additional bogus bank accounts by checking for multiple deposits of $9,500."

Castle nodded. "We need to figure out what to do next."

"Yes," said Kate. "We may be able to stop him, but at what cost?"

"I don't know," said Castle. "I don't know how to do this without blowing the cover we created for Captain Montgomery."

"And destroying his legacy to his family and his pension to boot. We have to think of something."

"Time to bring in Jordan Shaw and your team," said Castle.

"Bring them here?"

"Oh, no. I have a much better idea."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Jordan Shaw glanced up at her matrix board, set smack in the middle of the 12th precinct squad room. Looking stunned at what was there for all to read, she jumped up, knocking her coffee cup to the floor, which drew everyone's attention, and stepped quickly to the board to close the file. She looked around the room to see if anyone had noticed. Someone had.

At her desk, she mopped up the coffee and then opened the same file on her personal computer. It was a picture, taken with a long telephoto lens, of a very alive Kate Beckett, sitting on the patio of Castle's Hampton home. She was clearly reading a newspaper featuring the distinctive photo of yesterday's front page human-interest story about hot air balloons. Shaw looked at the image, smiled grimly, and closed the file again.

A few minutes later, several miles away, the watcher, Hal Lockwood, put down his phone. "Fuck!" he cursed, furiously. He thought for a minute, then called his employer.

"They fooled us. Beckett's alive and staying at Castle's place in the Hamptons."

"Get up there," said the voice on the phone. "Get up there now, and take her out. Take them all out. Then catch a plane to Europe and don't come back for a year. I'll send the money to your usual account. We can figure that out later, but go. Now!"

"Right," said Lockwood.

"And take care of yourself. I don't want the material in your lock box to appear on tomorrow's front page just because you got yourself killed speeding on the LIE."

Lockwood smiled. Always nice to have insurance against lethal employers.

Lockwood crossed the Williamsburg Bridge, heading for the Long Island Expressway. He was so intent on his driving that he didn't notice passing an NYPD patrol car. He certainly missed the officer picking up his phone and calling ahead to his counterparts on Long Island.

Drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as he drove, Lockwood was thinking at light speed about his diminishing options. With these final two murders, the heat would be on everywhere. Catching a plane to Europe might be chancy. They could be watching the airports. Maybe better to head to Albany and have it out with the boss man? Or what about Canada? It wasn't that far. Or he could charter a plane to some place without extradition. With his guns as emotional collateral, he was sure he could "convince" someone to fly him there.

The two and a half hour drive sped by. Lockwood stopped several blocks from Castle's Hampton home in a quiet _cul de sac_. His sniper rifle was broken down into three parts that he slipped into the specially made pockets of his raincoat. He got out, locked the car, and strolled up to the nearest home.

Quickly subduing the maid who answered the door, he slipped out the back and across a utility access strip to a point with a clear view of Castle's patio. He reassembled his rifle and found a convenient tree to use as a stand. Yes, there she was. The bitch. Time to die.

So focused was he on Beckett that he never heard Esposito and Ryan slip up behind him.

"Gig's up, dirtbag," said Ryan. Lockwood spun around, trying to get the rifle turned fast enough for a shot. Esposito was faster, clipping him twice in the right leg before he had a chance to fire.

"Gotcha!" said Ryan, as he cuffed the killer.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

"Give up your boss man, Lockwood. Turn state's evidence, and we'll get you life without parole. Otherwise it's the needle for you," said Kate to the assassin.

Lockwood looked up at her with his expressionless face and said, "No way. I'll take my chances in court. Besides, that worked out so well before, didn't it?" he added with a reptilian smile.

Remembering the killer's escape from his last court appearance, Kate could barely control her temper. "Have it your way," she said, standing up. "Esposito, let's put this guy on ice for the next 12 hours. Then we'll let him go. His Mr. Big will think he's spilled his guts and take care of our problem for us."

Lockwood laughed without mirth. "Just because that worked with Johnny Vong doesn't mean it'll work with me. "

"We don't need it to work," said Beckett. "Either you work with us or you're dead. Either way, I win." And she walked out.

Twelve hours later, the media, alerted to the news, broadcast images of accused cop killer Hal Lockwood leaving lockup. He turned up the collar of his raincoat and sprinted for the nearest cab.

At the same moment, in a coordinated movement, law enforcement officers from several different agencies entered the attorney general's office in Albany and arrested him on multiple charges of murder. Stunned, the residents of the state turned on their televisions to watch Jordan Shaw read a prepared statement.

"New York State Attorney General William Thames was arrested this morning by agents of the state police, the FBI and the NYPD. Evidence for the arrest warrant came from testimony of informants and financial records spanning a 21 year period. The charges include multiple counts of murder, conspiracy to commit murder, kidnapping, and racketeering. "

"Kidnapping?" asked a reporter?

"Yes," replied Shaw. "We believe Thames ran a kidnapping ring about 20 years ago that focused on members of the local crime families. The ransoms from those crimes eventually totaled millions and supported Mr. Thames's successful runs at the city and then the state attorney general offices."

"Who were the informants?"

"We're not at liberty to say. We'll have a more complete statement in the morning. Thank you."

The statement the next morning, however, was quite different than anticipated because late the night before, an inmate with mob connections somehow got close to the imprisoned Thames and slipped a home made knife into his heart. Shortly thereafter, and not too far away, a large plastic bag, awkward in size and shape and weighted with several cement blocks, was dumped into the East River. Hal Lockwood would never trouble anyone again.


	9. Epilogue

**Thanks to all who've stayed tuned. And for all the reviews! I'm glad you enjoyed the story.**

Epilogue

A healed Kate Beckett stretched in the fading sunshine filtering through the sunroom windows of Castle's Hampton home. The life sized cardboard cutout of her that Lockwood had seen on the patio was resting against the wall. Castle was threatening to frame it and hang it in his study.

Looking out to sea, she watched as a small but vicious storm moved across the bay, heading their way. Turning away, she saw Castle, sitting next to the living room fire, typing away on his laptop.

Picking up her glass of wine, she walked through the open door and settled down on the floor next to him, laying her head on his knee.

He looked at her, still surprised at the easy affection she now seemed to share, and smiled. "How's it going, Kate Beckett?" he asked.

"It's good, " she said, smiling up at him. "How about joining me down here?"

He put the laptop aside and slid down to the floor with her, putting his arm around her shoulders. Outside the storm raged, but inside, two people surrounded themselves with the calm serenity of requited love.


End file.
